Tag Archives: Wooden Spoon

I had wrote this story back when daylight savings time ended back in autumn, but it did not seem to work as well when you set the clocks back an hour as going forward an hour. I had forgotten about it until I stumbled across it yesterday.

“Damn Benjamin Franklin!” Jules thought, washing the last of the dishes from the Lent breakfast. “Why did he have to come up with stupid daylight savings time?” she mumbled under her breath. This common error was just the latest in a series of bad choices for her today.

She sorely wanted to reach down and rub her throbbing sensation which had engulfed her pelvis, but didn’t dare try with her damp hands. She knew from previous experience that getting any water on her light blue satin dress would turn the fabric a dark blue hue. A quick rub was not worth having to explain a dark blue splotch in such a location.

The irony of her thought took a moment to hit her. Here she stood, in the basement of the church, washing dishes while the rest of the parishioners sat upstairs listening to a sermon on God’s grace and mercy.

—

“VEERRRR” vibrated across the night stand. Jules ventured a single out from the warm embrace of her down comforter. She brought the phone right up to her nose before she could make out who was calling. “Honey!” displayed above her finance’s picture. Even though he had woke her up, she still gave a smile before accepting the call.

“Jules, have you left yet?” Cory said, a little out of breath on the other end of the line.

“Hu…no?” Jules mumbled into the phone.

“Are you still asleep!?” Cory asked.

“Yea, I was just getting up,” she mumbled before pulling the phone away from her ear to see the time “7:02” printed in tiny letters across the top of the display.

“You are just getting up!” Cory yelled through the phone. He seldom used his “wrath of god sermon” voice with her, but the few times he had, she had screwed up royally. “You were supposed to be ten minutes ago!”

“Sorry, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Jules said, jolting upright in bed.

“Well, please bring a whisk. The one here broke and we are going to need to make another batch of batter before the next service.” Cory instructed her.

“OK, see you soon,” she responded instinctively, focused more on getting out of her PJs and into the shower than the stuff Cory was saying.

“Bye,” Cory said before hanging up.

Jules flew through the shower and the rest of her morning routine. She literately ran out the door 15 minutes after the phone had woke her up, barely remembering to grab her phone.

—-

Jules hated speeding, but the church was five miles away and she was way to late to obey speed limits. Luck was on her side for the first three lights, flying through the intersection just as the light turned yellow. The fourth light turned green a hundred yards before she reached the intersection. She shifted to the left lane to avoid having to slow down for the couple of cars stopped in the right lane. She was going fifty in a thirty-five when she crossed in front of the cop sitting at the intersection.

Had she even saw the cop, she would have swore God had intervened to save her from the ticket, because the SUV in the right lane blocked the cop’s radar detector and the exact moment she crossed the intersection.

Jules pulled into one of the close spots and ran inside as fast as she could in the heels. She found Cory in the kitchen, wrapped in a purple apron, flipping pancakes.

“There you are,” Cory said seeing her flouncy past him.

“Yea, sorry my alarm didn’t go off.” Jules said with a bit more attitude than was needed.

“You forgot to reset your alarm for daylight savings time,” Cory corrected her, as he made a large stack of pancakes.

“Yea, whatever,” Jules mumbled, sitting her purse and coat in the corner of the counter-top. “What can I help with?”

“Well, we are done with the first batch, so you can start making another batch of batter. Grab your whisk and you can reuse this bowl.”

“I think we need to have a little discussion,” Cory told her quietly before turning to his left and heading towards the pantry located at the back of the kitchen.

Jules could feel her luck run out as she followed her fiance the 10 feet to the pantry. The isolated room acted more like a storage room for extra appliances, dishes and utensils than a food storage location. Cory flicked on the light and locked the door behind them before focusing his attention on Jules.

“I told you last night that it was daylight savings time and to reset your alarm because it would not adjust by itself, but did you listen?” Cory lectured.

“No,” Jules replied, trying to sound sorry.

“And then you forgot to bring the whisk, which I asked you to this morning.”

“Sorry… I will listen better next time. I promise!”

“Well, I think you need a reminder. Why don’t you bend over and grab that lower shelf?” Cory asked rhetorically.

“Please not here!” Jules begged. Her mind was filled with the possibility of someone walking in the door any moment, and potentially seeing her in such a compromising position.

Cory pulled a long slender wooden spoon from a nearby utensil jar and whacked her backside with it. “Yes here, and why don’t you hike up that dress while your at it. It looks nice and I won’t want to damage it.” Cory motioned upwards with the spoon at her waist level.

“Grrr,” Jules grumbled, but knew better than to disobey him. She had been the one to propose this situation a year ago as a way to help deal with her flaky attitude. He had been skeptical at first, and the initial sessions were more sexually frustrating than real punishments. Filling his apartment with smoke because she had forgot about a batch of cookies in the oven had provided him with enough motivation to really punish her. Things had improved drastically in their relationship, which would be culminated in a wedding in two months.

She bent at her waist and pulled the hem of her dress up until it rested around the top of her panties. She continued her downward trajectory until she firmly gripped the wire mesh shelf, about two feet from the floor.

“Ouch!” WACK! “Owe!” Cory peppered her bottom with the wooden spoon, spreading the wacks evenly around the nylon encapsulated globes. The fiery sensation in her bottom grew much quicker than normal, as the nylon seemed to trap the heat in her bottom. It was a new experience in their relationship, and one she would have preferred to read about than enjoy.

WACK! WACK! WACK! “Are you going to listen more closely next time?” Cory paused to grill her after a quick flurry of swats.

“Sniff, yes, I, will, listen, better,” she responded, trying to keep in the tears. Holding back the tears was a hard task with the intensity of the fire in her bottom. Each syllable she struggled to say the word, without breaking down. This focus caused her tone came across as much more flippant than contrite.

“Well from your tone, I see you haven’t learned anything yet,” Cory chided.

“No!” WACK! “OWE! WACK! WACK!

Cory gave her a dozen quick strokes on the lower edges of her bottom, poking out beneath the bikini cut panties. He was about to start lecturing her again when he felt a vibration coming from his pants pocket. It was the timer on his phone silently reminding him to head upstairs and get changed. He gave his handiwork a quick glance, admiring the bright red hue gracing his fiance’s sexy bottom. “Even a man of the cloth is still a man,” he thought to himself.

“I think that is enough for now, we can discuss this further after services are over,” Cory said turning away from her. He was more concerned about hiding the evidence of his impure thoughts than providing her with a little bit of privacy.

The relief by Jules was evident from her loud sigh. She knew this was a temporary reprieve and rearranged herself as quickly as possible to avoid any further discussion at this time. A little flick of her hair and a shake of her hips was all she really could do to make her look normal again.

She stepped forward, lightly brushing Cory’s hand, causing him flinch ever so slightly. He tried to hide the focus of his mind by kissing her lightly on the forehead, as he commonly did when she had done something special. The soft kiss sent a tingle down her spine, releasing the feelings which had been building since the spanking had begun in a semi-public location. The risk of getting caught had triggered feelings which were whole inappropriate for a chaste finance of a minister. “Even a woman of a man of a cloth is sill a woman,” she thought to herself as she gave her bottom a quick rub then followed Cory into the kitchen.

“I need to go get ready for service, you can stay down here and wash up all the dishes.” Cory told Jules, waving the wooden spoon towards the sink overflowing with plates. He took a step towards the kitchen door, when he remembered the wooden spoon in his hands. He spun around and sat the utensil on the ledge above the sink, right were she would have to see it. “Oh, and lets leave this right here and a little reminder.”

The boy’s parents arrived shortly after I finished straightening up the mess I made upstairs. They were the epitome of country folk, broad shoulders, broad waists and spoke slowly. Not the kind of people I normally associated with, but lately I had been doing numerous things for the first time.

The cold wind that entered with the owners snaked around the kitchen and up under my dress to bit my bare legs. the sudden chill in a normally protected place, sent a shiver through my body. I stood up to greet them as the boy took a satchel and shawl from his mother. It took a moment for either of the new comers to recognize they had guest.

“Hello?” the mother asked me first, “Wendel who is this?”

I immediately stepped forward and responded before the boy could respond. “I am Goldie Locques,” I said and for some unexplained reason curtsied before the older woman. She was just a peasant, but with their potential gratuity it felt appropriate.

“Pardon my manners, she was caught in the storm and asked to stay here until the weather got better. I couldn’t throw her out in that weather, especially on the Lord’s day,” the boy said.

“Hmmm, Where do you live, girl?” the mother asked me.

“Ahmmm, Munich,” I lied. I had repeated that same lie a dozen times in the last two weeks, but for some reason I stumbled this time.

“Munich you say? You are a far way from home, especially for a girl so young to be traveling alone.”

Why did she think I was just some child? It was like this whole family could not tell a sophisticated lady when they saw one. “I am not that young!” I said in a huff. “I turned eighteen this summer if you must know.”

The woman just snorted. “Your attitude says otherwise. You can stay until the storm passes, then you can be on your way. The vicar said it may last for a day or two, so while you are staying here, you can help me around the kitchen.”

I initially considered a witty retort, thought a slight tingle in my bottom changed my mind. These people did not know any better and I should not embarrassing them by publicly correcting their mistakes. “Yes, ma’am?” I posed it as a question in the hope she would provide me her name. Initially she seemed to ignore my request, instead focusing on helping her husband get dressed to go back out into the storm. The two men were going to the barn to check on their animals. Once she closed the door behind them, she responded to my earlier request.

“You can call me Mrs Behr. Goldie Locques? Is that English?” the mother asked, returning her attention to me.

“Yes ma’am, my grandfather came over from Sussex. He was a trader with the East India Company.”

“Trader you say? Hmm.” she stilled looked at me suspiciously. It was the same look my mother would give me when she thought I had been up to no good, but wasn’t yet sure what mischief I had created. “Well, you can wash and set the table while I tend to supper.”

I got a cloth and dampened it in bucket of water that sat on the counter. I made a couple passes over the plank table, before looking for the bowls and spoons.

“Do you know why a bunch of supper is missing?” Mrs. Behr asked, hunched over the large pot of porridge.

“Ah..no?” I lied. It took barely the count of ten for a guilty blush to stain my face. She had been suspicious of my answers before, but the last lie might have been too much.

The older woman turned away from the pot and glanced at me. Her expression quickly shifted from motherly caution to a hard glare. My eyes strayed towards the floor as I could already tell my goose was cooked. Why couldn’t I be good at lying like my older sister?

“Really? You didn’t eat any while Hans and I were gone?”

“No….” I mumbled. While technically true, my governess had always stressed a lie of omission was a lie in of itself.

“Hu? Speak up girl!”

“No, ma’am,” I said a little louder.

“It ain’t hard to tell that you’re lying to me. Why is there porridge missing?”

The tone of her voice told me this woman would not be manipulated by a soft small and a little flirting. What should I tell her, I asked myself. “I…I…didn’t eat it…I…hmmm…spilled some in the fire. It wasn’t my fault, the bowl just tipped over while I was looking for some cooked parts.”

“You spilled good food in the fire! That pot should have lasted two days, now we will be lucky to have enough for today!”

“Please don’t throw me out!” I don’t know where it came from, but my first thought was being tossed out into the winter storm.

“Toss you out?” Mrs Behr half laughed. It was the first time she hand broke her gruff demure since arriving home. “What would the Lord think if I did something so unmerciful as that. You’d surely die out there.”

I could feel the strain instantly float off my shoulders. Learning you will not be dying today is very stress revealing. Her next comment though instilled a different kind of stress.

“That isn’t to say you won’t wish you were died once I get done with your backside,” she said picking up a broad wooden spoon from the table next to the fireplace.

“What?” I half shrieked, half gasped. The next few moments felt like a whirlwind. The older woman took my by the forearm and planted me face down over the end of the freshly washed dinning table. The back of my dress flew up over my back while my shift slide up, until it was wrapped around my waist. With a pull of a drawstring, her target was exposed as my bloomers fell to the floor.

“No, please!” I pleaded.

“Quiet now girl, you wasted food and now you are going to get a good walloping for it.”

The spoon hand none of the hesitations of Wandel’s hand. The first spank was crisp, imparting a instant sting to my bottom. Abstractly the spoon felt like a smaller hairbrush, thought I wasn’t able to comprehend higher level thoughts at that moment.

The swats came fast and furiously, and my yelps of distress couldn’t keep up. She paddled one side for a while then switch to the other. When she moved lower, I got another burst of energy to resist the spanking. My increased wiggling and kicking did not even phase the older woman. She simply spanked on, burning up the lower sections of my bottom and the tops of my thighs.

My eyes were awash with tears when she returned to the top of my bottom to renew the sting in the areas where it had faded to a throb. At the moment it felt worst than any spanking I had previously received, though just about every spanking feels like the worst ever during the spanking. Looking back it would not have even made the top ten.

She stopped after giving my bottom a twice over with the wooden spoon. I was a crying mess, cursing myself for my earlier clumsiness and stupidity. Why had I taken so much? Why had I set the bowl on the side of the pot? Why didn’t I taste it first?

“Now girl, get the table set. The men will be back in shortly,” she said, returning to the pot.

The whole spanking was over as quickly as it started. There was little scolding or lecturing, just draped unceremoniously over the table and “walloped” as she put it. I did not know what to make of it, but I was certain that Mrs. Behr was a no-nonsense woman, and not someone I really cared to trifle again during my short stay here.

This is the fourth, and final part, of the Three Ghosts of Halloween story. It begins with Part I and continues with Part II and Part III.

It took me forever to find Brittany. The people in the living room said she was in the kitchen while the people in kitchen said she was in the living. Finally someone mentioned she had went down to the basement to get some more wine. It taken 15 minutes of searching before I finally found her a storage room in the basement.

“Hey, Bethany’s being attacked by Jake!” I exclaimed.

“What?” Brittany was clearly shocked by my statement. “Attacked?” She probably had more to drink than me, so logic wasn’t her strong suit at the moment.

“Come on, I’ll show you!” I took her hand, and led her upstairs to the master bathroom. During the winding trip upstairs, I started questioning why I had searched for Brittany over Rick or Adam. Either man would have been able to put an instant stop to Jake’s actions. They had meet when playing football in college as walk-on linebackers and neither had lost much of their physics since college.

When we got to the master bedroom, I went straight for the bathroom door, while Brittany held back slightly. Throwing open the door exposed the completely empty bathroom. By this point I figured Jake would have fled, but Bethany also?

“She was right here!” I swear. “And Jake was beating her like some child.”

“Ah, are you sure?” She questioned. The bathroom was obviously empty.

“He was, I swear! She was over his lap with her panties pulled down and was slapping her bottom!”

Brittany blinked slowly as if what I said had relaxed her in some way. “Why don’t you sit down so we can talk.”

“We need to find her, make sure she’s safe!” Why didn’t she want to search for her sister?

“Please, sit. I know what is going on.” Brittany took a seat on the end of her bed and gently patted the spot next to her.

Something wasn’t right. Why was she so calm? Didn’t she worry for Bethany’s safety?

“Please,” she repeated.

I reluctantly obeyed, perching tentatively on the edge of the bed.

“Have you and Adam ever had a disagreement that simmered for days? The conflict slowly eating away at you until you finally burst into a full blown fight?”

“No…” I lied. What do Adam and my martial issues have to do with Bethany? I currently was a little annoyed with Adam for forgetting to get tickets to last weekend’s symphony concert, but that didn’t matter right now.

“Are you sure?” She asked again. “Because my students can lie better than you.”

“Maybe,” I relented, waving my hand off dismissively.

“Doesn’t the emotional strain draw every bit of energy from you?”

“Yea, but arguing is kind of fun, and the makeup sex is so worth it. So what?”

“The sex is so good because you no longer have this great burden weighting you down, preventing you from feeling life.” She licked her lips as I could tell she was contemplating her next words carefully. “Some people…. Some of us have been wise enough to embrace clear, crisp solutions to martial conflicts. Going over our man’s lap and being spanked happens to be a more prevalent and successful solution.”

I think my jaw hit the ground at that moment. “You’re kidding me,” I shook my head dismissively. Spanking conflicted with everything I had been taught growing up. Men are supposed to respect women, not beat them.

“I’m not kidding. It may seem like a juvenile punishment, but between a husband and wife it is much more complex. More intimate.” Brittany explained.

“Bethany gets off on it? Like a fetish?” I asked. Fetishes were something I never really understood. I didn’t really like anything strange in the bedroom department. Just straight making out and intercourse.

“I sincerely doubt she receives any sexual pleasure during a punishment spanking. It is also not a fetish in the way feet or latex. Like I said it is more complex. You are offering yourself up to be disciplined. After which all your sins are washed away and you feel pure, innocent again.”

I cocked my head to the side trying to comprehend what she was saying.

“Remember before Adam, when you broke up with your last boyfriend who broke up with you?”

“Right afterwards you were a mix of emotions; anger, sadness, confusion, etc? Then the first thing you did when you got home was cry your eyes out over a pint, or two, of Hagen Dais?”

“Yea. Rocky road was break-up go to.”

“Cookies and Cream here. Once the tears were all gone, that fog of emotions had parted and you could barely remember why you even liked the guy?”

“Yea.” Where was she going with this?

“Getting spanked is a conduit for that emotional release. You are forced to cry all those pent-up emotions out through your tears until the real you is left. The you that loves your husband with every ounce of your being.”

“Hmm. but it”

“You are offering yourself to be disciplined. Abuse is non-consensual. There is nothing abusive when you are consenting to it.”

“But…but…” I was reaching for some objectionable point, but she had already dismissed all of them.

“But you really won’t understand until you try it.”

I still wasn’t buying what ever she was selling.

“Oh, and the sex in the afterglow of a spanking is like ten times better than makeup sex.”

Now it was my turn to question her truthfulness.

“The spanking focuses your brain, and blood, on your hips area, making all your girly parts become ultra sensitive so the briefest contact.”

She paused for a long moment, offering me a chance to object, but I couldn’t think of any legitimate reason.

“I’ll think about it.” I conceded. The concept was intriguing, but still didn’t feel right. How could a modern woman like myself ALLOW a man to spank me.

“Good. And don’t worry about Bethany. I’m sure she’s fine.” Brittany stood up and started for the bedroom door. “Come on, it’s a party. Lets have some fun.”

I wasn’t in the party mood, but followed her downstairs nonetheless. I figured I should find Adam. I got to the top of the stairs when I realized I had never completed my original mission. I did a little pivot at the top of the stairs and returned to the master bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, all I could think of was Bethany laying over Jake’s knee and that bathbrush crashing into her bottom. Her bare bottom had been a mere four feet in front of my current position. The brush, still sitting on edge of the tub, sweeping down in a mighty arc. Her yelp of pain. Her plea of acceptance. I could swear I her say “Gloria, it is OK.”

A cold breeze traveled down my spine, wrapping around to tickle my most intimate parts. The responding shiver shook my entire body off the toilet.

My heart raced. Adrenaline surged through my veins. Everywhere I looked, the bathroom was empty. But someone had just spoke to me and something had just touched me.

Shucking up my panties, I waddled as fast as possible out of the bathroom, even skipping my normal hygiene routine. I was not sure what was going on, but I did not want to be in that bathroom any more.

A sound from the bathroom caused me to glance back as I flung open the bedroom door. The sound echoed again, this time more clearly audible.
It was the sound of wood rapping on soft, smooth flesh. The sound I heard earlier and it was following me,

I rushed through the doorway, still looking over my shoulder, straight into a younger girl.

“Careful!” the girl chided.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands up slightly, as if I was warding off an attack from her. The petite girl was dressed up like a NFL football player, complete with the black eye hashes. Underneath the costume, she looked eerily familiar. “Wait, aren’t you girl that was on tv today? The one involved in that homecoming party?”

“Yea, my FATHER was sharing all the gory details on tv.” she said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“Sorry.”

“It is ok, but you should be more careful in the future, otherwise you might end up the same situation as my friends and I.”

“Hu?” I asked.

“Learning a lesson the hard way. We can all learn lessons, even as we get older. Sometimes they hurt a bunch right now and are over with, while others drag on for days or more. Honestly, I prefer the quick sharp ones.” She shrugged her shoulders, then turned to go in the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

I took one step down the stairs when I realized the news report involved a town 15 miles away. Why would that girl be here, especially if she was in that much trouble?

Pausing, I leaned back around the corner looking down the hallway towards the guest bathroom. A man was leaving the bathroom while an older women entered. The girl was gone. It was as if she had vanished. Now were my eyes playing tricks on me too? Or was it something else?

She couldn’t have just vanished. It had to be a trick. Then everything clicked. The girl the news cast, the bathroom episode, Brittany’s lame excuse about Bethany consenting to being spanked. They were all in on it and trying to prank me. Well I would show them!

I continued downstairs, back into the core of the party. Everyone else were drinking, dancing and having a generally good time. Music filled the voids between the costume bodies.

Dancing though was the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. I was determined to figure out what was going on before they completed the prank. Then I could through a monkey wrench and screw everything up. Adam just better not be involved. He knows how much I hate pranks.

None of the obvious culprits seemed to be on the main floor, so they had to be hiding in the basement.

I contemplated playing dumb as I walked down the steep steps into he basement recreation room. I’d play dumb and see what information they leaked. “Yea,” I mumbled to myself, pausing to let a young woman dressed as Little Bo Peep pass. In my contemplations I only had a brief glance at the woman’s face, but a glance was my mind needed to careen down a new path. She was familiar, but I couldn’t place her name. It took a second and I realized she was the young woman from the Halloween store. If she was here, she was probably part of the prank also.

“Hey,” I called out turning to catch her. She stopped just short of the door, a good six feet higher than my current step. My eyes naturally raised up her legs, towards her head, but stopped dead at her bottom.

The costume was a standard over-sexualized version of the storybook character, complete with a low cut blouse on the top and extra short skirt on the bottom. The flare of her petticoats, and my low vantage point, provided me a sight straight up the back of her dress, to the underlying white nylon panties. Her panties do not hold my attention like the two crimson globes sticking out of the undergarment.

Now that I had stopped her I had no idea where to take the conversation. I wanted information about what ever prank they were pulling, but I couldn’t just come out and ask about it, so I went for the next best thing. “You were in the Halloween store this morning,” I accused while climbing a up towards her.

“Bethany is spanked too!” She cut me off, covering her mouth in shock. This time it looked considerably more real than the last expression. “Wow, I didn’t know,” she said behind her hand.

“You didn’t know?”

“No….” she said.

“Then you aren’t in on the prank?”

“What prank?”

“Oh…” Now I was thoroughly confused. If she wasn’t in on the prank, why would she show me her spanked bottom, twice? “Then why were you half-naked in the dressing room?”

“Ah…because mom had just spanked me for wanting that silly leopard costume. I had been a brat towards her all morning and the fit I threw about the costume was the last straw. Sometimes it’s the only way I listen to reason. It really wasn’t that bad, more embarrassing because you heard me get it than painful.”

“But your bottom, it’s still an angry red.”

“Oh, yea…” She started blushing deeply again. “That was for this month’s credit card bill.”

I stared at her, waiting for more details.

“I’m still in college, Bethany and I are actually in the same Master’s program, so I live with my parents and they help financially while I finish my schooling. When Dad found out I maxed out my credit card eating out, he hit the roof. And his belt on my bottom.”

This time I covered my mouth in shock. “Ouch!” I mumbled.

“Yea, ouch big time. But it’s better than destroying the good relationship I have with my parents.”

“I guess. But then why are you here?” The obvious question to anyone recently punished.

“Bethany had asked me to help her with the catering, so it was fine with my parents. Normally I’d be grounded for rest of the day, but work takes precedent to punishments.” she smiled halfheartedly.

“Catering! That’s why the other girl was here!” I said realizing why the girl from TV would be at the party also. She must work for Bethany’s little catering business. “Well thank you for the information, and sorry about being spanked. I promise I won’t tell anyone, but I need to go find my husband.”

“Thanks,” she said, eager to leave our conversation.

Everything was starting to make sense. Brittany was using Bethany’s employees to trick me into getting spanked. I bet the next phase of their plan was to occur in the basement. Probably some trap to get me ‘into trouble’ and provide a reason. Well I’ll show them. They can’t spring their trap if I’m not here. I’ll grab Adam and we’ll head home. I’ll probably have to promise sex though. Ah, so what, it was worth avoiding the humiliation.

Just like Bo-Peep had said, half a dozen guys were standing around the pool table, drinking beers. Adam saw me as soon as I entered the room and with a wag of the finger, he came straight over to me.

“Honey, come on, I want to go home!” I made my best big puppy-dog eyes at him. They normally worked when I wanted something.

“Hu? why, it’s early.” Adam turned to look at the guys, who were making some kind of ruckus.

“Please?”

“Ah, honey,” He tossed back the last of his beer. “In a little bit.”

“But I want to go NOW!,” I whined.

“Well, once I finish this game. Rick and I are tied two-games a piece with Jake and Greg. We only got one more ball to win.”

“Jake?”

“Yea, Bethany’s fiance. The guy there in the batman costume. The four of us have been down here playing since we arrived.”

“The whole time?” I asked. Had they really lured Adam into their plot?

“Yea, why?” Adam asked, clearly confused. He was horrible at lying to me, and tonight, being well plied with alcohol was no exception.

“Hey, Adam, it’s your shot!” Rick called out before I could come up with some answer.

“Don’t worry, it’ll just take me a minute to win and then we can go.” Adam kissed me on the forehead and returned to the pool table.

Was this the trap? What was going to happen? I fidgeted the whole minute and a half it took Adam to sink the winning shot. They were here somewhere and I wanted to escape before whatever happened.

We just about made it out the door when we ran into Brittany and Bethany coming down from upstairs.

“You guys leaving?” Brittany asked.

“Yea, we are heading out.” Adam said, as nonchalantly as he could.

“Well I hope you liked the party.”

“It was a great party.” Adam complemented. “You out do yourselves every year.”

“Yea, great party,” I told Brittany, then added for Bethany, “You did a great job catering. Your employees were also really nice.” I leaned close to whisper, “And I won’t say anything about what I saw earlier.”

“Say anything? Employees? What are you talking about?” Bethany responded.

“You know, the football player and Bo-Peep?”

“Who? All my staff are at different parties. I’m here by myself tonight.”

“Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.”

We said our goodbyes and were off into the cool night air. The way Adam walked, something seemed to be bothering him.

“Why was it so important we leave early?” Adam asked

“Oh nothing,” I mumbled. “I just wanted to go.”

“It was quite rude though,” Adam let his annoyance with me come through in his tone.

“Sorry,” I apologized. He was right. He was always right when it came to us. It was one of those things I loved to hate about him. He always thought first, and acted second. Every argument we ever had as a couple was my stubbornness versus his, his, his correctness?

Nothing else was said until we safely home and in our bedroom. The whole walk my emotions were eating me up inside. How I had been a complete bitch to him ever since he mentioned the Halloween party 2 weeks ago. The complaining about the costume, and then getting us to leave early. His favorite holiday, and I had completely ruined it.

I’m such a bad wife.

Five words that went around and around in my head as I climbed the steps to our bedroom. Each word stabbing itself into my heart, the exorcise the pound of flesh it was rightfully owed. Twenty three steps and five words were all it took to make me feel worst than I had ever felt in my life.

I had to get rid of the pain, and now. But how?

One answer instantly filled my mind, barring everything else. It was extreme, but it would work. Wouldn’t it?

“Can we talk?” I ask Adam hesitantly once we were in the bedroom.

“What’s wrong now?” Adam sighed as he tossed his cape, wig and beard onto my makeup stand chair. He had already ditched the hat to the same chair, leaving him just dressed in the long white robe.

“Sit down please,” I asked, gesturing towards the bed. I bit my lower lip as he followed my instructions, sitting on the edge of the bed directly in front of me. Should I really do this? Could I do it?

“Yes?” he asked. I felt so small and he looked so large and regal in that flowing white robe. Wise and all knowing, like a King or a Bishop. Oddly, that put me slightly at ease.

I blinked once and just let my emotions flow. “I had a long talk with Brittany and Bethany tonight and I want to apologize for my bitchiness over the last week.” I looked at his lap the whole time. Maybe Bethany didn’t get spanked tonight, but the discussion with Brittany surely happened.

“Week?” Adam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine, the past month,” I mumbled. “They. hmmmmm, they enlightened me to a better way for us to deal with our disagreements, and hmmm, and I think we should start using their model.”

“Ah OK.”

I couldn’t think of anyway to say what I wanted to say. It was like my entire vocabulary had been reduced to that of a kindergartener. “I need spanking” was all I could think of but it sounded so wrong, and childish.

“Honey?” Adam asked.

“I, hmmm, I, hmmmm.” Still unable to articulate my thoughts, I simply went for the action route. Actions are supposed to speak volumes.

I took a half a step to my left, then turned and laid myself over Adam’s outstretched knees. At that moment I realized how awkward and uncomfortable it is to lay over someone’s lap. I kept teetering between having my hands, or my feet flat on the floor, never both.

“Ah,” I could hear him stuttered. What was he waiting for? Isn’t he just supposed to start swatting my bottom?

“Aren’t you going to spank me?” I asked quietly. Hadn’t Rick ever told him about he and Brittany?

“What?” Adam asked.

“You can spank me,” I said again, this time a bit louder.

“What do you mean, spank you?”

“Like Rick does to Brittany or Jake to Bethany.” Doesn’t he know how embarrassing this is for me.

“What are you talking about?”

Did he really not know? How could he not know? Rick and him are best friend. “Rick spanks Brittany when she is naughty, like I have been towards you.” I could hear him gasp at that revelation. He really didn’t know about their arrangement.

I started to push myself up, off his lap when a hand gently pushed my shoulders back down.

“Hold on there a moment. Help me understand this, Brittany is spanked when she is naughty and now you are jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous. I…I just want us to be happier, like them.”

“And you think spanking is the key to happiness?”

“No,” I immediately responded, though it felt awful wrong to lie at this moment. “Well….partially. Maybe it is what we are missing.”

“OK, then we will put this to rest right now.” I wish I would have caught the annoyance in his voice, but my stubbornness had become focused on achieving the goal of a spanking. I know, a crazy goal, but can be stubborn to a fault.

The first swat didn’t seem too bad. A light tingling sensation, really. The next few slowly increased to a slight sting, but were far from unbearable.

Maybe it was my lack of response, or Adam was starting to get into it, but the spanks became harder and harder until a strong one surprised a yelp out of me.

Adam paused for a moment, most likely to see if I would complain. I wanted to say it was too hard, but for some reason the harder spank had felt better than the tentative ones. More emotionally freeing than those gentle pats.

The spanks began to rain down again, this time with my unspoken consent, Adam was putting some force behind his hand. Force that I am sure he knew I was feeling. Each spank imparted a crisp sting to my skin, cause me to yelp with most every one.

Soon, I could feel the fire he was building on my bottom. Individual stingy spanks had blended together into a constant fire, much like how my yelps blended into a low continuous sob.

All the emotions I felt over the past day, week, month came flooding back. The snarky comments. The thoughtless actions. The blatant bitchiness. Everything was there, and everything was getting burnt away by the fire Adam was creating. I could have swore my cries of distress where just fueling Adam’s arm, fore every swat seemed stronger, and harder, yet more freeing than the previous.

I plead for forgiveness and the swats kept coming. I promised to be good, and the fire kept building. I begged him to stop, and the flow of tears increased.

At some point all the negative emotions that had been building inside me had flowed out through my tears along with all the energy I had to resist that spanking. And then it was over.

Adam eased me up and wrapped me in his arms while I buried my face into his chest. He felt so warm, not like the hot sun that my bottom currently feels, but like a cozy cabin on a cold winter day. Everything beyond his embrace is just an icy abyss. Within, was his caring, his thoughtfulness, his compassion, all that makes up his love for me. It was so warm and peaceful. Everything was alright.

I do not remember falling asleep, just waking up the next day, still holding my man, though carefully tucked below our covers. The room felt oddly cool at moment, but Adam was nice and warm. I never wanted to let him go. He was mine, and I would be his, forever and ever.

It was nearly noon before we made it out of the bedroom. It felt a little late for breakfast, but we were both hungry. I went for a yogurt cup while Adam went straight for the remaining pumpkin pie. Normally I would chide him for such an unhealthy choice, but this morning it seemed petty of me.

The expression Adam made after his first bite was priceless. It was some crazy mixture of him eating a lemon and bitters. I couldn’t help but laugh at the clearly unpleasant taste.

“Hhmmm…” Shit I forgot the sugar. Flipping the yogurt covered spoon over in my mouth, I slowly licked it cleaned while I thought of a response. My normally sharp wit fled my mind like it was on fire. “Nooo, but….”

“But you weren’t thinking or you intentionally sabotaged the pies?” Adam paused for a moment. “Either way, we should deal with this naughtiness right away. The wooden spoon seems appropriate.”

Wooden Spoon!? Where did he get that idea from? I never said anything about a wooden spoon.

“Yes mom. Ok mom. I am right now,” Heather said into the phone. A few moments later she hung up her phone. “Hey, I got to get home.”

“It’s these soo cute?” Viola asked her friend, holding up a pair of high-cut panties.

“Yea, get them and lets go.” Heather dismissed the question then started chewing on her thumbnail.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Viola could see the anxiety in her friend.

“Nothing, my mom just wants me to come home now.”

“Ok,” Viola said with a shrug. “Let me pay for these. Oh then lets grab some FOYO before we go.”

Heather stopped chewing on her thumb long enough to bark, “No, I said NOW!”

“Fine, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Viola was surprised at the outburst. She was sure there was something wrong and she had to find out. Being the driver would provide some nice leverage against Heather.

The girls made their way through the mall crowds and out to Viola’s car without saying another word. A couple quick turns and they were on the interstate heading home. Normally, the highway was the fastest way to get back to the small town where the girls lived, but Viola was more interested in the second exit.

Heather was focusing so intensely on her chewing her thumbnail, she completely missed pulling the car into the rest area.

“Wow.” Viola chuckled a little bit. Her mother would be pissed if she had ever went over by that much also. She sensed there was something more though. Viola thought Heather’s nervous demure was disproportionate to the seriousness of the offense. “Ok, I’ll take you home.” Viola returned to the highway and fifteen quiet minutes later pulled into Heather’s driveway. She pitted Heather for having to still live at home, but being basically unemployed, her friend and no other option.

“Thanx,” Heather said, jumping out of the car as soon as it stopped.

Viola watched the blonde get all the way to the back door before reaching into the backseat and picking up the bag of clothes Heather had bought. She got out as the back door closed behind Heather. She took her time walking along the deck that wrapped around back of the house.

Pausing at the door, Viola could hear some yelling and then a little bit of commotion from inside. She tried peaking in the window adjacent to the door, but the curtains where pulled tightly shut. “Well here goes nothing,” she thought before knocking loudly.

She heard some voices inside then she could make out a figure approaching through the frosted glass door panes. She licked her lips as the figure reached the door. Any second she’d find out what was bothering

Viola almost dropped the bag of clothes. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Behind the woman and the kitchen, laid a girl with her panty covered bottom pointing straight at the door.

“Can I help you?” Mary asked her daughter’s friend impatiently. She needed to get dinner started and there still was the business with Heather to finish.

“So that’s why Heather was so mean.” Viola said to herself.

“Hu?” Mary asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing really. Heather just yelled at me after your call. She mentioned you were mad about the cell phone minutes, but nothing about, hmm, that.” Viola nodded to indicate the girl’s current position.

“She did, did she?” Mary pursed her lips while she thought for a moment. Lying to people outside of the house wasn’t strictly prohibited, but Viola was her daughter’s best friend, and it appeared she was mean about it also. Mary took a step backwards and motioning for the girl to enter. “Why don’t you come in and after my discussion with her I’m sure she’ll apologize.”

“MOM!” Heather screamed from the dinning room, “PLEASE NO!”

Mary closed the door behind Viola then lead the way into the dinning room. “Hush! You shouldn’t be mean to your friends just because you are in trouble!” She punctuated her remark with a swift swat to Heather’s bottom. Viola hadn’t even noticed the bamboo spoon Mary had been holding until it crashed into her friend’s backside.

“Ouch!” Heather cried in echo to the muffled clap.

Viola stood in the corner, covering her mouth as she watched her friend get spanked. She had the perfect vantage point to watch the spoon work its way across the panty covered bottom, earning wiggles and the occasional ouch from the owner. Viola wasn’t sure what to make of the scene playing out before her. She could tell Heather was dying of embarrassment, though she didn’t think the spanking looked that bad. It actually looked kind of pleasant, like when her boyfriend slapped her ass during sex. If this was a spanking, she kind of wished she’d been spanked instead of grounded.

“Ok, enough warmup. Lets get these down and start the main event.” Mary set the spoon on the table then reached for her daughter’s waist.

“Please let me keep them up!” Heather reached down her slides to grab her the waistband of her panties.

“Is your bottom not warmed up yet? I can keep going?”

“No, I mean yes, ah! Please let me keep them up while she’s here.”

“She is a woman just like you and I. Now let go or I’ll continue warming up your bottom!” Mary commanded, punctuated with a couple firm slaps of her open hand on her daughter’s bare thighs.

“OCUH!” Heather squealed, letting go of her waistband and attempting to reach her tighs. The table made it an impossible task.

Mary shucked the undergarment down the pink tushy and legs until it was inverted just above the girl’s knees. “Now these can stay here until we are done.”

Viola’s eyes grew larger at this revelations. Up to this point she had thought Heather was lucky to get spanked instead of the punishments she’d received growing up. Losing her phone or computer for a week had been torture to a teenager. With her friend’s panties down and round two ready to begin, she wasn’t quite so sure.

Mary brought spoon forward with a slight upward arc, catching the meeting of bottom and thigh. The sharpness of the spank caught Heather off guard.

“Ouch goddamn…” Heather realized the words that came out of her mouth a moment too late.

“What did you say?” Mary asked her daughter.

“Nothing,” the upturned girl mumbled. The response earned her smart spanks to each thigh. “Ouch, ouch!”

“Would you prefer more than your mouth washed out?” Mary asked.

Viola covered her mouth as her jaw fell again. Being spanked at 23 was embarrassing, but her friend got her mouth-soaped for swearing also. Wow, was all she could think.

“No, no, I’m sorry for swearing.” Heather pleaded, twisting her head and shoulders around in an attempt to show her mother her contrition.

Heather made awkward waddle through the house to the main bathroom while keeping her panties tightly around her knees.

“What did Heather say was the reason she was in trouble?” Mary asked the stunned Viola.

“Ah…ah that she went over her cell phone minutes by like a thousand or something.”

“Six thousand five hundred and forty minutes actually.”

“Wow,” Viola mumbled. The couple of times she’d went over her allotted minutes she’d lost her phone for a week or two, and that she had only been a hundred or so over. Six thousand! She would have never gotten her cell phone back. Though how did she use that many? “How?” she mumbled as the thoughts swirled in her head.

“She keeps falling asleep with Corey on the phone at night.” Mary answered before turning her back and watching the doorway for her offspring.

Heather returned holding a slightly used bar of ivory soap. Heather never looked up as she entered the dinning room, being more preoccupied with the awful white bar in her hand and keeping her panties at the appropriate height.

Viola, conversely couldn’t stop staring at her friend. It took Viola a couple moments to realize why Heather was carrying a bar of soap. She had read about a couple news stories involving parents washing their kids mouths out with soap, but didn’t think it really happened. Well at least it didn’t happen outside of those white trash households.

“Open!” Mary commanded after taking the soap.

“Please, I’m really sorry, I’ll never ghhhff!” Mary cut off her daughter’s pleas by shoving the white slab into her mouth.

“That will stay there until I am remove it. Now back over you go.” Mary waved the wooden spoon at the gagged girl before pointing towards the table. Heather gave up her protests and resumed her spot bent over the table.

Viola had seen a couple spankings before, but this was nothing like those erotic ones. Mary peppered the proliferated bottom with the spoon. Heather cried through the soap while wiggling her hips about and occasionally kicking a leg up. All this fuss just earned her a few swats to the back of her thighs and a hand on her lower back.

Mary didn’t stop until she thought her daughter had been soundly spanked, crying only tears of contrition.

“Ok baby, I think that is enough. You can get up now.”

It took Heather a moment to regain enough of her senses to push herself up, off the table. Once uprighted, her attention immediately focused on removing the pain below. She danced from foot to foot while attempting to rub out the blaze in her tush. Viola couldn’t help but snicker at her friend dancing around like her butt was on fire.

“Come on, to the sink,” Mary said, shooing her daughter towards the kitchen. It was all the prompting Heather needed, as she quickly scampered to the sink. She knew better than to remove the bar from her own mouth and waited diligently for her mom while keeping the rubbing going at high speed.

“Do you have anything to say?” Mary asked, pulling the drool covered ivory from the girl’s mouth.

“I’m sorry for going over my cell phone minutes mommy,” Heather cried and sputtered like she was closer to three than twenty-three. She finished with a couple of spits into the sink.

“And to Viola?”

“I’m sorry for being mean,” Heather replied in the same little voice. At her pause, Mary made a slight grunt, prompting “and for lying to you about my punishments.”

“Ok, you can rinse now.” Mary turned on the faucet. Heather didn’t even both using a cup, instead dunked her head sideways to fill her mouth with water before spitting it out. Mary let her repeat the motions 5 times before turning off the faucet.
“It’s ok baby. Your all forgiven. Now you two can go up to your room and play a little bit.”

Viola looked at Mary sideways. The last bit of her statement was highly unusual to be said to two adult women. It even slightly offended her, though with Heather already out of the kitchen and that spoon sitting next to Mary, she didn’t dare argue the point.

Heather pulled her friend into her room and closed the door behind the girls. She immediately spun her friend around, “Please don’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t.”

“Promise!”

“I promise..” Viola twisted her lips from side to side. She had so many questions, but couldn’t figure out how to break the ice.

“How much damage is there?” Heather said, turning her back to her closet door, and the full length mirror hanging on it.

“Its really bad,” Viola commented as her friend twisted her torso to look over her shoulder.

“Naw, this wasn’t so bad. I’m probably lucky you came back.” Heather ran a finger over the slight hints of a bruise.

“Lucky?” was all Viola could say as Heather started blabbering on about other spankings, close calls and how she was relieved that she had someone with whom to share her secret.

I grew up with a basketball team. Not literally, but there were 5 of us kids which is enough to form a full squad. We actually played together a couple of times, mostly against our cousins before my older brothers started going off to college. You would think that working a farm wouldn’t require a college degree, but this is the twenty-first century where everything needs a college degree. At least that is how all the guidance counselors always made it seem. I just hope there are more jobs for fresh college grads when I finish in a couple of years.

Growing up on a farm meant I had many rules and chores to do on a regular basis. With three older brothers, my chores were not that difficult and mostly were around the house, but the rules applied equally for my brothers as they did for I or my little sister. Well almost equally, because Dad mostly dealt with my brothers when they got in trouble and Mom dealt with Becky and I. This division of labor worked mostly in Becky and my favor, because during the summers and weekends we would stay outside as much as possible where Dad would let us get away with all things of mischief since he didn’t like punishing his little princesses. It was a stereotype we fit into only when Dad caught us, Mom could care less.

Most of the rules were quite standard for any farm family, like always latching the field gates, making sure tools are put away at night, doing your chores on time, keep up our manners, etc. Oddly we never really had curfews, rather we had to milk the cows at 5am, which meant none of us ever wanted to stay out beyond 10pm. The couple times when there was a school dance or something, we had to tell Mom when we would be home and stick to the time. No big deal.

One of the odder rules involved dinner. Living on a dairy farm, we had ample supply of beef, including steaks, for dinner. When we were young, the rule was Dad got the largest one and then we kids choose the smaller ones. When we reached our teens, the rule shifted to, take which ever you want, but you HAVE to finish what you take. My parents were poor growing up so wasting was a big no-no in my family. I guess the rule was actually not to waste anything someone else could use and food was were it came into play regularly.

So back to my current predicament. I had missed lunch today so when we sat down for dinner, I went straight for the largest steak and a nice big baked potato. When Ryan saw what I did, he raised his eyebrow a little as if to say “are you sure?” I was sure, at that moment. Fifteen minutes later, I wasn’t quite so sure and by 25 I was regretting my choice. Since I had turned 18 I seemed to be having a final growth spurt which meant I could eat constantly and not gain a pound. I know, your jealous. Well this new found hunger, plus no lunch, meant I was extra hungry when we sat down. But it still wasn’t enough to finish the 16 oz sirloin steak, a 6-inch potato and a salad plus some veggies.

Everyone else had finished and I was trying to stuff a little more into my stomach when Mom said “Becky, Rachelle will clear the table before we have a little chat.” I sat down my fork admitting defeat. My stomach was so full it ached.

“OK,” Becky said as she got up from the table, and taking her plate to the kitchen. She gave me look of condulences as she passed me. Mom, Dad and Ryan followed Becky’s lead in clearing their setting, now I needed to clear my setting then put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.

I pushed back my chair when Ryan re-entered the dinning room. “I’ll finish your extras. Maybe Mom won’t be so upset.” Ryan said as he took my fork and plate. It was a nice gesture, which hopefully would work. I hadn’t technically wasted any food.

I picked up some of the serving dishes and took them into the kitchen. Mom was there fumbling with a few of the leftovers that where still on the stove. I sat the quarter full bowl of green beans on the counter and the dishes with the juices from the steaks into the sink, then went for another trip of dishes.

On my arrival from my fourth, and final trip to the dinning room, Mom was standing next to the sink, waiting for me. Her hands were resting on her hips and ‘your in trouble’ was written all across her face. At least it wasn’t the “I’m disappointed in you” look which would rip my heart out.

“I’m sorry Mom. I really thought I was hungry enough to finish everything, but I just couldn’t. I won’t do it again. Can you just spank me and forgive me?” I blurted out before she could say anything. I hated the lectures Mom would give. I didn’t like spankings either, but the lecture beforehand always seemed to put off the spanking on forever while my anxiety just built and built.

Mom looked at me for a moment, then just nodded towards the breakfast nook. Even though I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, my feet still took little steps over to the table. It was like my body was trying to preserve itself while my mind had clearly accepted its fate. I unbuttoned and pulled down my jeans before leaning over the table to grab the other side. I was hoping Mom would let me keep my panties up. I know, it would probably be the first time, but there’s always a chance.

Mom fished around in the utensil jar for a few moments then came over behind me. I felt her rest her hand on my bottom for a few moments before pulling back and delievering a series of quick spanks spread over both cheeks. They weren’t so bad, since my panties damped some of the sting.

SMACK SMACK SMACK! Mom kept raining down spanks with her hand while she said “Rachelle, you know better than to waste food.”

I bottom was beginning to feel warm as Mom shifted her attention to just one cheek at a time. My right cheek took the brunt of her firepower first. Even through my panties, the sting started to build quickly. I wiggled a little and Mom shifted to the other cheek. It was no time before she had every spank sting like a bee.

And then she stopped all of a sudden. My reprieve only lasted a few seconds before Mom pulled the back of my panties down, rubbing them slowly over my red bottom until they were hanging at mid-tight. The cool air on hot skin suprised me a little.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Mom brought the rubber spatula down hard and fast. I couldn’t stand it anymore and let the tears flow.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! My crying didn’t deter her as she picked up her speed and force. I wiggled by bottom from side to side which just got her to place her left hand on my lower back while she kept tanning my hide. Bending my knee just earned me a few swats to the thigh.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Every inch was covered with red marks. The top. The sides. The bottom. The oh-so painful crease between cheek and thigh. I just cried on as Mom throughly completed her work.

Then just as sudden as it had started, it was over. I didn’t realize it at the time, because the fire in my rear burned as strong as ever. Mom let go of my back and set the spatula into the sink.

“Come on honey, up you go now.” Mom cooed as she helped me. Those key words released my hands from their iron grip on the table edge, allowing them to fly back to rub my bottom. I buried my teary eyes in her chest as she held me tight. “It’s over now. I love you but be a little more curtious next time.” She let go of me as I started to regain my composure.

“I’m sorry mommy,” I cried wimpered. Why does a spanking turn any girl into a 4 year old? It happens with me. I’ve seen it happen with my sister and girl cousins. It’s like every minute under her mother’s hand, makes a girl act a year, or 4 for that spatula, younger. I’d probably only been over the table for 4-5 minutes, but felt 15 years younger!

“I know honey. Wash all the dishes and put them away then you can go.” Mom said as she motioned to the sink.

I started to slowly step over towards the sink, with my hands still firmly secured to my bottom, when I realized I was bare below the waist. I had to have covered the ten feet to the sink in a second flat. It was the best option to preserve a little of my modesty while dealing with the horrible sting. I heard Mom chuckle at my scamper as she left me alone in the kitchen.

I rubbed for another few minutes, keeping my pubis firmly against the counter in front of the sink. The sting finally resided enough for me to dampen a hand with cool water and apply it to my stingy cheeks. I jumped a little at the first touch, but soon had both cheeks damp. Cool water after a spanking is wonderful sensation, though before a spanking is torture. I learned that tid-bit a year ago after swimming in the pond.

Once the fire was quenched to a mild sting, I got to work on the task at hand. Even though no one was in the kitchen, I didn’t dare move very far back from the countertop. I think Ryan had taken off to his girlfriend’s right after dinner so Becky was the only one who might spy on me. Her spying on me like this is embarassing, mainly because I was naughty than from a lack of modesty.

“Eyes bigger than your stomach?” Becky asked from behind me as I finished up washing the last of the dishes.

“Nope, I wanted to get spanked!” I snipped back, flicking water at her. “Brat!”

“Thought so,” Becky snickered. “You want some help drying?”

She wanted something. There wasn’t any other reason why she would volunteer to help me with my punishment.

“Mom said you could drive me over to Grant’s after you got done.”

Boyfriend time was the real motivator. “Fine,” I accepted. We’d be done in a few minutes and I’d be able to put my jeans back on.

Warning!

This blog contains adult content. If you are offended by such content, or not of legal age to view and/or consume such content please leave now.

All stories and content on this blog is related to adult spanking situations. All characters are at least the age of consent in their locality (18 in particular).

In no way should any of the content be taken as endorsing or condoning the spanking or corporal punishment of minors.